Another Clique attempt
by tomatoesforlife
Summary: Just another attempt at writing a story where the Pretty Committee clashes with an opposite personality
1. Chapter 1

Hillside Condos

Westchester, New York

Sunday, August 31st

7:40 p.m

Reagan was angry. Which wasn't anything new, but this time it was real rage. Mostly because her annoying, polar opposite, pink loving Barbie of a sister was humming some girly song and doing the dishes. She dug her hand into a bag of salt and vinegar chips, something familiar of her home with her father.

"I'm gonna hum this remote straight at you if you don't stop being so 'Sound of Music'-y," She warned. Melanie just seemed to smile at her and discontinued whistling.

"Oh, Reagan, lighten up. What is it that is bothering you?" She asked, scrubbing a plate.

Reagan clenched her fists. "You know exactly what's bothering me." She seethed at the thought again. "It's because instead of just taking me with him, dad's gone off way up to northern Canada for a year." She closed her eyes and imagined her custom black and orange Polaris IQR modified sled ripping through the fresh Yukon powder. But she opened her eyes to her annoying sister's puffy pink lips in a pout in the kitchen.

Melanie smiled softly and sympathetically, which made Reagan more mad. She always looked like she was some sort of 50's housewife, yet modern. Even though they were twins, they couldn't be more opposite.

Luckily they were fraternal and not identical. Melanie had soft, sweet blue eyes. Her skin was very soft white and she had very straight white-blond hair that came down to the top of her shoulders. Right now it was being held back by a coral pink headband that matched her nails and the apron she was wearing over a white sundress. She also had pink puffy lips that were always either pouting or smiling. Her tiny button nose had a dusting of freckles across it and typically crinkled around things like Reagan's truck. She was of very small stature, standing at about 5'4" at the age of 18. She was also very tiny and frail. Again, very Barbie like. She was training to be a CNA (Certified Nurse's Assistant) just like their mother, who raised Melanie and looked like an older version of her too.

Reagan, as true with her personality as well, was the polar opposite. She towered nearly everybody she'd ever met. She was 5'8" and it was another reason her sister wasn't sure how to handle her. She was very strong willed, stubborn, and a spitting image of her father. She was always one of the guys because at a young age, her parents split up. Her father didn't want to be tied down, nor have two daughters. He took Reagan because even from birth, she was very different. She got her first snowmobile at the small age of two. Ever since, her father trained her for snocross, which she started at five. They were really close. When she wasn't working on her sled, she was in her father's mechanic shop or helping her other racing friends, ranging from motocross to snocross to truck and prostock, modifieds, etc. She had dark, red brown hair that reached halfway down her shoulder blades, a tan from the summer (with a tan line from her orange braided ankle bracelet), and dually pierced ears. She was the younger one out of the two but the only one with a license. She hated toting her sister everywhere. Reagan typically had two moods; mad and less mad. She hated how prissy her mother and sister were. But she had no choice but to stay in New York with them until her dad came back from Canada.

"I honestly think you're going to adore OCD." Melanie snapped Reagan from her thoughts. Reagan would rather be back in North Carolina with the guys. But she had no choice but to start at a private academy with her perfectionist, feminine sister. The thought was more than she could handle.

She jumped up from the white wicker armchair she had been sitting cross-legged in and slid the glass door open. She walked out onto the tiled patio from their 4th story condo, which in this building was the highest floor. She leaned on the wrought iron fencing and pulled out her Android. No messages, no calls, no anything from anyone. She looked at the last message she had from her father. It was a picture of a huge R he carved with his Ski-Doo in Canada. 'Deep pow. Thinking of you. Don't hate me forever. Be good in school tomorrow. Xoxo, dad.'

"Gahhhh." She growl/sighed in frustration. She knew exactly where she wanted to be.. And exactly where she was. Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Hillside Condos, Parking Lot

Westchester, New York

Monday, September 1st

7:30 a.m

Melanie bounded down the cream colored carpet stairs, her still warm curls bouncing with every step. She had just ironed them into perfect, shoulder length ringlets and kept them out of her face with a peach paisley head scarf, holding her hair like a headband would. She was wearing a white halter sundress with an empire waist and pleated bottom. There was a bow tied on the front, giving it some decoration. It was her favorite dress and it always reminded her of Marilyn Monroe.

Her mother had already left, and she had another forty five minutes until her carpool arrived. She didn't want to be caught dead with Reagan, and didn't know how to face Massie with her around. She didn't even mention her sister to the Alpha for her own good. She would be out quicker than rhinestone studded Uggs.

She shuddered at the thought of being out when she was still just barely getting in. If she didn't live in such a prestigious house with such a famous mother, she would have had no chance. But her mother was a fashion editor for Teen Vogue and Melanie knew she had a big part in the clique.

She was feeling better after a soy-banana power smoothie her mother had left for her in the fridge and whole wheat toast with greek yogurt. She felt it was a bit of a heavy breakfast but she was nervous and the last thing she needed was to pass out. She was more stressed out than she thought she would have been a month ago. Her mother had been very tense and tight, which was extremely unlike her. Her mother's usually tight, frizz free chignon bun was starting to splay hairs out in every direction and she could usually be found in her bedroom with a migraine. After a few days, she had told Melanie her biological father was leaving for Canada without her twin sister, meaning she had to take her junior year at Westchester Private Preparatory College (WPPC). Her sister, who was a pretty big name in snocross, was too opposite and cramped her style way too much. All she could do was make it clear to her sister she needed to back off and she should be free and clear. Reagan wanted nothing to do with Melanie anyways.

Full of hope and nerves, she went back upstairs to talk to Reagan. There was a laid back beat and guitar riff on the other side of what was Reagan's door. She wrinkled her nose at the terrible taste of music.

She started pounding on the door. "Reagan! Open up!"

Reagan appeared at the door, wearing distressed, torn, dark wash cutoffs and a tight white wife beater. It was simple but made her eyes and her tan pop. Her hair was still in a towel. She stepped outside her room, closed the door, and crossed her arms. "What do you want?" She asked, sounding incredibly bored.

"Turn that crap down," Melanie said, showing her irritation. She glared straight up at Reagan, who was towering her.

"It's Clapton, have some respect." She said after an eye roll. "What are you really here to tell me?" She said, raising one eyebrow.

Melanie's face flushed. She never saw her sister so up close. She had slightly defined cheek bones, a round face but defined jawline, and clear skin. Her eyes reminded Melanie of a cat, sharp and expressive. Her eyebrows had a natural arch and it added to the mysterious beauty. She had her cartilige pierced on her left ear and double pierced earlobes. Her nose had a tiny diamond in it too. Her lips looked like the kind you'd find on a bratz doll, except less puffy and they curled up very devilishly in the corners. Her hazel eyes were flat right now and almost glassy.

"I think it's best if we don't associate at school." She said, keeping her composure. Reagan smiled halfheartedly but evilly.

"I didn't plan on it." She returned back into her room, slightly smokey. Melanie started coughing, hard. "Like I'd want to follow my Barbie doll sister around like a damn lost puppy. I have my own name. I don't need your girly shit." She picked up a red flannel shirt, rolled the sleeves, and tied the middle. "I'm all set following around the wicked bitches of Westchester." She slid on some dark brown moccasins, grabbed her black backpack, her keys, and the lit cigarette on her night stand.

"Reagan." Melanie had her nose buried in her Juicy scented arm. "What are you doing with that?"

"We're 18, relax. Mouth shut, face gone, Got it?" She slipped on black Ray Bans with the lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

"I am NOT lying for you!" Melanie stormed out of the room, following Reagan.

"Then I'd love to say hi to Massie for you. What do you guys call yourselves? The Pretty Committee? What are you, twelve?" She exhaled, and turned to look down at Melanie. "I could give two shits about your little glamour life here. I've done more in my life than any of you have ever done and will ever do. So don't think I'm doing you a favor by not being near you. I'm staying away so I don't have to call to your do it all overworked cookie cutter mother and her Barbie daughter. I don't like to hit on the first conflict." She turned on her heel and walked out.

Melanie grabbed the banister outside Reagan's bedroom for balance. She knew this was gonna be hard, but she didn't think it would ever be this bad.


End file.
